


Train for Niggle's Parish in the Bay

by attaccabottoni



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Spoilers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:19:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: (Spoilers for Avengers: Infinity War, and a little speculation.)"He took a great deal of pains with leaves, just for their own sake. But he never thought that that made him important."—Leaf by Niggle





	Train for Niggle's Parish in the Bay

 

 

 

“Gotta say, I’m surprised. The world’s about to end, and yet Steve Rogers is not up to regulation.”

Steve self-consciously ran a hand through his hair, chuckling at the ridiculousness of keeping up appearances at this point. He felt rather than saw Bucky’s pleased grin, so he reached out to give Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze. “Always glad to have you with me, Buck.”

Bucky nodded at the glass panel before them. “That view never gets old.” The fondness in his voice turned wry. “That beard has got to go, though.”

“Like you’re doing any better on the grooming front.”

“Touché.”

Unwillingly on Steve’s part, his mood quickly turned somber. “They’re prepping Vision now. As soon as they start, we’re moving out.”

“Hurry up and wait, huh. Just like old times.”

Gratitude welled up in Steve. He ducked his head to fight back tears. “Yeah.”

“Speaking of old times, did I tell you about this old book I read recently?”

Steve caught the dry amusement Bucky was exuding, and gamely answered, “The world’s about to end, and yet Bucky Barnes is not up to date on literature.”

Bucky shrugged. “T'Challa was kind enough to let me borrow from his library, and his tastes lean towards the classics.” He dug a small paperback from out of his pocket and handed it to Steve. “The main character reminded me of you. He’s an artist.”

“This is from the writer of _The Hobbit_!”

“Published this one in 1945. We were busy back then.”

Steve reminded himself not to grip the little book too hard. “Bucky, I never told you how sorry I am for leaving you behind. I didn’t know you survived the fall.”

Bucky met his gaze with clear eyes. “I wasn’t alone before I fell. Was it really you who left me behind, when I was the one who told you I’m with you til the end of the line?”

Steve rocked back on his heels, bewildered. “What?”

“You being left behind was punishment enough. If anything, I ought to ask you to forgive me, too.”

Steve was about to argue when Sam arrived to give them their comms and informed them that the transport was already on standby.

Before they reached the threshold, Bucky turned to Steve, nodding at the book still in his hand. “Reading that helped me make sense of some things. When you can take a break, give it a try.”

They were nearing the hangar when Sam said, “Hey, do you guys know if Wakanda has developed MREs that taste like pancakes? Because I could use some of that right now.”

Sam barely finished his sentence when Bucky started running, “The last one to the rendezvous point pays for breakfast.”

“You’re on! The winner gets to pick the restaurant.”

Sharing a smile with Bucky as they easily outpaced Sam, Steve said, “The world’s about to end, and yet Bucky Barnes thinks this is a time to be making bets.”

“There’s always going to be time for breakfast, pal.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The silence doubled, trebled and quadrupled as the seconds ticked by. Steve wasn’t used to feeling his limbs heavy and his thoughts weightless rather than the other way around since the serum. The sensation reminded him of the seemingly futile way his pre-serum body had worked to keep him alive. Staring unseeingly at what was left of Vision, he entertained a strange doubt of being able to carry him to his resting place.

He needed to get his mind into some semblance of order. Maybe the trick was to breathe properly.

He felt rather than saw Natasha kneeling beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“None of this is your fault, Steve.”

The quaver in Natasha’s voice should rouse him from the lethargy that kept him immobile, but he couldn’t summon his decisiveness from where it had disappeared.

The approaching footsteps sounded determined to drown out the silence. He wasn’t really surprised when Thor grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet.

“We need to find someone who could track the Mad Titan,” Thor said, his grip unrelenting. “Once he meets his inglorious end on my axe, we wrest the Gauntlet from him, then use the Time Stone to undo what has transpired.”

Clearly, someone else knew what to do. No one needed anything from Steve. It was a relief to keep not-thinking.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha straighten. “Then all we need to do is ambush him.”

“We’ll also need to rescue Tony from wherever he is in outer space,” Rhodes argued from behind him. “He’ll be hell to deal with if he finds out he missed out on the action.”

“Have hope, Steve. I will not fail to aim for his hand again.”

After everything, he still couldn’t save Bucky. It makes it hard not to wonder what further price he would have to pay this time, only for it to happen all over again.

Steve managed to make his voice work. “What does it matter? Hope helps us control our fears. But there’s nothing left for me to either hope or fear.”

Thor raised his eyes to the heavens, and breathed out. He marshalled a small smile before looking into Steve’s eyes with a soulful directness.

“My friend, we are with you. You may think that you have lost all care for this life, but this is a lie. We could get our people back. That we may fail is a cause for fear, but there’s nothing that any of us can choose to do that doesn’t matter.”

 

 

* * *

  

 

When Tony opened his eyes, he was prepared to yell at Nebula for letting him fall asleep and argue with her again for the captain’s seat. All his words dried up once he saw who was sitting at his bedside.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked.

Tony instinctively moved to sit up when a blinding headache told him that jostling his position on the pillow would be a bad idea. “I would like an explanation for how I ended up getting hit on the head, but something tells me I’m not going to like it.”

“Thor told us that the Bifrost technology on his axe has lessened accuracy when operating outside the Nine Realms.”

“Ah, and it has no regard for landing targets in motion, which is why you ended up crashing in our ship and giving me a whiplash.”

“That’ll be Bruce in the Hulkbuster armor knocking you over by accident.”

“Why did he—? Never mind, I’ll ask him myself.”

“Just take it easy, Tony.”

Grief flared up unexpectedly, as he roared, “Don’t tell me to—”

Almost blacking out from the pain gave him an easy out from that embarrassing display.

“Tony, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Mindful of the throbbing behind his eyes, he studiously kept them closed as he rubbed his temples. “What.”

“Not telling you the truth about your parents’ deaths was a shitty thing to do. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend to you.”

Tony couldn’t help himself. “Language.”

In the quiet that followed, Tony kicked his wits back into gear, aimed at reciprocal honesty, and found that doing it without looking at Steve helped. “My response was disproportionately calibrated to focus on one detail. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. Feel free to let Barnes get some of his own back.”

“Bucky doesn’t—didn’t blame you.”

Tony was grateful that he couldn’t see Steve. He was also grateful that the first emotion that he felt upon hearing the news was not satisfaction.

Before Tony could formulate a response, Steve continued, “You should know, I don’t blame you, either. I lost count of how many times I watched Bucky die in front of me.”

“What?”

“Granted, only two of those happened in reality, but it was enough to make me dread closing my eyes.”

“Oh that makes it better, then. Remind me to send you a file of therapists to stay away from.”

“But even if you did end up killing me, or killing Bucky, back then, neither of us would have blamed you. I just wanted to tell you that.”

Tony swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. It’s something you need to hear. And I think it’s something that we have in common, believe it or not. I ask for your forgiveness—”

“Done.”

“Thank you.”

“I take back all the things I said in Siberia.”

“I forgive you, too.”

“Good. Now, could you please go away? I need privacy to get something done, and it’s definitely not a little bout of manly crying.”

“I promised to be there when you need me.”

“I don’t think having Captain America watch tears stream down my face is something I need.”

“Actually, Rhodes told me to let you rest.”

“You should always listen to Rhodey.”

There was a sound of rustling paper. “Will reading to you help?”

“You’re travelling light years away from Earth, and you managed to bring a book with you? How old timey can you possibly get?”

“You really should stop talking, or it could make your headache worse.”

“Fine.”

“ _There was once a little man called Niggle, who had a long journey to make. He did not want to go, indeed the whole idea was distasteful to him; but he could not get out of it..._ ”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Edited April 28, 2018): This is dedicated to brave little Alfie Evans. Requiescat in pace.


End file.
